A Snake in a Fabric Shop
by snails-on-the-french-riviera
Summary: A very short and utterly pointless one-shot about little Draco Malfoy in Madam Malkins, thinking about fabric.... yeah, i don't understand it either. please read.


0 Disclaimer: i own nothing, capiche? nothing.

**A Snake in a Fabric Shop.**

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Eleven-year-old Draco stared out the enormous store-front window at the people on the street. Most of them he considered below his notice, but a couple of them he deemed worth observation.

Like that witch over there, with the dark blonde hair and bright green robes.

He wasn't quite sure, (after all, he was only eleven) but he thought those robes were made of Acromantula silk; that was hard fabric to find, and even harder to weave and sew properly. Narcissa had been teaching him about fabrics lately, a subject he pretended to hate, but secretly found fascinating.

There was actually a whole society dedicated to the creation of Acromantula silk garments. They were highly secretive about the process, terrified that someone would steal their monopoly on the precious materiel, but Draco's Mama had contacts inside the group, and so knew enough to tell her son the basics.

The Weavers (that was what the society called themselves) had to first find an Acromantula willing to give up some of its precious thread (one could simply incapacitate the creature and take it by force, but the quality was better for some reason if the spider was a willing donor, Draco wasn't sure why.), and then you had to store the thread in a special room at sub-zero temperatures until the garment was finished. Otherwise, it would spoil and disintegrate into a sticky, gooey mess and you had to start all over; and warming charms, or actually spells of any kind, seemed to have an adverse affect on the quality of the silk when used in close proximity, so most of the Weavers didn't use them.

The entire process had to be done by hand, but the un-treated silk was actually venomous if it was in prolonged contact with your skin, so the weavers had to wear specially designed gloves. Because the process was so arduous, every garment had to be custom ordered to fit a specific person.

The buyer had to go to a number of fittings, first a rough garment made with normal cloth, just to check that the fit was right, and then later at various stages throughout the process.

Every time they would have to rub a special oil all over their body to keep the venom in the silk from hurting them for all the hours the fitting would take.

Once the garment was finished and dyed, it would be put on without the oil and magically keyed to the person, so that they and anyone sharing their blood could wear it without being poisoned. If anyone else outside of their family tried to wear it for a long period of time, the silk would still be dangerous.

Draco had asked his Mama why the Weavers didn't use the keying spell earlier, but she said that once the key spell was used, all the threads and seams in the fabric would fuse together into a single sheet, and the Weavers would be unable to work with it anymore. The keying spell could be keyed to more than one person, but any more than three and the spell became less effective.

Draco wondered how many people that lady's robes were keyed to. They looked very old fashioned, like some kind of family heirloom. If that was the case, he thought, they might not be keyed to anyone at all. The lady could simply be wearing them because she's related to the original buyer.

"Draco?" His mother's voice drifted through to his awareness, gently pulling him out of his thoughts. Draco looked up at her. "Yes Mama? What is it?"

Narcissa Malfoy sighed. "Draco dear, what have I said about calling me Mama in public? It's not dignified, either for you or for me. At home is fine, but not in Diagon Alley."

"Of course. My apologies, Mother." His mother smiled.

"Now that's more like my little Malfoy. Now, Madam Malkins is ready for you."

Draco turned away from the glass and walked to the back of the shop, where the seamstress was waiting for him with a set of robes and a stool. "You just hop on up, dearie, and we'll see about some nice new robes for you."

Draco gave her his best sneer. He wasn't sure how it turned out, but he'd practiced it in the mirror a few times, and he thought it was coming along nicely. In a couple of years he'd be as good as his father.

"Madam Malkins, I am not a four year-old, I am eleven. Please refrain from calling me by anything other than my given name or surname ever again."

Draco shuddered in distaste. He may have let his Mama and Papa use endearments, but that was a special case. He didn't want some strange lady calling him dearie, or darling, of heaven forbid, sweetie! It was just demeaning. He allowed the witch to drape a robe over his shoulders, and stood quietly as she began to pin up the excess length.

When she was not even halfway through, however, the bell rang signaling another customer entering the shop.

"Oh dear," sighed Madam Malkins, "Busy, busy, busy! Here!" she said, handing Narcissa a handful of pins, "hold these for a minute while I handle that, will you?" without waiting for an answer, she bustled off, leaving a very disgruntled Narcissa holding the pins.

Draco's mother looked at the objects in her palm in distaste. "Yuck," she said to Draco, "instruments of common labor!" Draco smirked, knowing his mother was joking. Narcissa was often to be found sewing or embroidering when at the manor, claiming she found the simple task a calming relief from the high-class life. She had even started to teach Draco a little, yet another task he secretly loved.

Narcissa glanced at the clock in the corner, and grimaced. "Sadly darling, I must fly. I need to get your books before the shop closes; will you be fine on your own?"

The boy smirked at his mother. "Really, mother. Need you even ask?"

His mother gave him a smirk of her own, hissed him on the cheek, and breezed out of the shop, leaving her son holding the pins.

Draco looked the bits of metal in his hand. "Damn." He muttered, "Left holding the pins."

* * *

aahh, the wonders of short and pointless one-shots. not really sure where this came from, originally it was going to be in my longer fic, but it didn't really fit, so i decided to post it as a one-shot.

cest la vie. it was going to bug me until I posted it anyway. I hope you enjoyed it, i thought it was kinda cute. come on, a fabric loving Draco? how cute would that be?

also, the whole Acromantula Spider thing is heavily inspired by the making of Spinner Silk fabric in Herbie Brennan's "farie wars". Or maybe it was the second one... I just changed it a bit to suit my purposes

Hugs!

snails-on-the-french-riviera


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